Multum In Parvos
by TantalumCobolt
Summary: A series of short, unconnected one-shots that take place in the universe of The Hobbit. Book-verse and movie-verse, featuring any characters. No Slash.
1. Into The Deep

**AN: The title is a Latin phrase meaning 'much in little'. I thought it was fitting for a series of short one-shots.**

**Title: Into The Deep**  
**Word Count: 665**  
**Characters: Kili-centric, featuring Fili and Thorin.**  
**[Book-verse.]**  
**Summary: A short fic exploring the event mentioned in the book when Fili and Kili almost**  
**drowned rescuing one of the ponies.**

* * *

Many had commented on the almost-elvish way that Kili had always been able to connect with  
animals. Looking back, it is likely that this connection is the reason they were in this situation to begin with.

He'd sensed the pony's alarm before anyone else had noticed something wrong and, the moment his  
body had tensed and he'd sat up straighter in his saddle, Fili had been alert and ready for anything.  
That's why, as soon as the pony reared up, they had both thrown themselves from their ponies' backs  
before anyone else in the company could do more than blink.

He'd always thought of his connection with animals to be a gift, but now, trapped in the angry, icy  
river, it seemed to be more of a curse than a blessing. Because, no matter which way he looked at it,  
this situation was either his fault, or the pony's, and, staring at the wild eyes and terrified face, he  
could not bring himself to blame the poor creature.

Perhaps, if he had not sensed the animal's fear, the adrenaline would not have kicked in and he  
wouldn't be struggling to keep he and his brother above water, while also trying to keep hold of the  
skittish pony's reins. Although, if they had not recklessly plunged into the swirling current, Thorin  
surely would have sent them in anyway.

Fili's head slips below the surface again and, as he pulls his brother up, his grip on the slippery rock  
falters.

_Help!_ A voice screams in his head._ Please, help!_

But, he does not dare open his mouth to voice the screams for fear the rushing river will, once  
again, invade his lungs.

The frigid water has already numbed his hands and feet and he knows it won't be long before he  
cannot move at all. The cold is leeching the energy from within him and it's now a battle to even  
keep his eyes open, let alone draw breath.

With one last effort, he hooks his arm through the reins, pulls his brother closer and lifts his head to  
scan the tree-lined banks once more.

_Where the hell are they?_

* * *

It seems like his eyes have barely closed before they're flashing open and he's gasping for breath.  
It's a pleasant shock when cool, sweet air rushes into his lungs instead of the expected icy water.

He hardly has any time to savour the blessed oxygen, however, before he's coughing up lungfuls of  
river water. Through the fog crowding his brain, he feels a warm hand on his back, rubbing soothing  
circles as he coughs and gasps.

When he feels he can breath properly once more, he rolls onto his back, peering up at the hazy  
image of a face. Consciousness is trying to defeat the slowly dissipating fog and he chases it  
eagerly, pulled along by the burning curiosity of what has happened. The action is immediately  
regretted when a searing ache makes itself known in his head. The chase for consciousness is  
quickly abandoned in favour of the relief the fog offers from the pain.

Someone seems to be speaking to him, but the deep voice is soft and far away, so he ignores it and  
allows his suddenly heavy eyelids to slide shut.

* * *

Everything is much more clear when he wakes the next time, pulled from the darkness by an  
overwhelming sense of panic, Fili's name tearing from his throat in a hoarse cry.

'You're okay, Fili's fine. You're both safe.'

The reassurance is as sudden and surprising as the arm around his shoulders. He leans into the warm  
body beside him, relieved, for the moment, to hear that his brother isn't dead, that he is safe. Soon,  
his energy will return and he will need to see Fili, to see for himself that his brother his fine before  
he can allow himself to rest.

For now, though, he is content to bask in his uncle's attention and relax into the rarely given, warm,  
loving embrace.

* * *

**Prompts / Ideas / Plot-bunnies welcome.**


	2. A Final Goodbye

**Title: A Final Goodbye**

******Word Count: 689**

******Characters: Bilbo, Thorin**

**********[Book-verse}**

**Summary: A look into what Bilbo was thinking as he said goodbye to Thorin after the Battle of Five Armies.**

* * *

_'Farewell, good thief. I wish to part in friendship, and would take back my words at the gate.'_

It would be a stretch of the truth to say that the leader of the Company was ever friendly – or even warm or welcoming – to him, but now that he lay dying he found himself regretting every cruel thought and every unkind comment directed at the exiled king.

_'There were many words I would take back, also.' _– Even those that went unsaid.

_'And does it take this to make us to see each other?'_

Many nights while on the journey he had sat in silent thought long after the dwarves, save those on watch, and Gandalf had gone to sleep. Hidden in the cloak of darkness he would think back on what he had observed of the Company so far. Days became weeks, weeks became months and soon he thought he had figured out each member of the Company – all but one. Now that he lay, broken and dying, before him, could he really say that he knew the Company's enigmatic leader?

_'Thorin…'_ – What is there to say? Is it a time for honest confessions, or a time for silent agreements?

_'Hush. You are no coward, my friend. I am sorry I so named you.'_

He left his home, his friends and everything he'd ever known to follow a company of dwarves on a reckless, and seemingly suicidal, quest to slay a dragon, how could he possibly be a coward? He was, though, and Thorin's accusations had hurt so much because of the truth that lay behind them. But, the spark of anger that had been ignited with that comment was now extinguished.

_'This is not important…'_

_'I was wrong. You did understand war. It was I who did not… until now.'_

Denial is on the tip of his tongue – he is a mere Hobbit from the Shire, he does not understand war or glorious battle. The dying king will never listen to him – if only because it seems his time for listening has run out.

_'Farwell, King Under the Mountain.'_

And that was the aim of the quest, wasn't it? To reclaim a lost homeland and return the mountain to the rule of the dwarves, who would rebuild their kingdom under the rule of the rightful king? Yet, in all the time they have spent within the mountain after the dragon's demise, he has not heard the title spoken, so it seems that he is the first, and it is likely he will be the last.

_'Child of the friendly West, I have come to know, if more of us valued your ways – food and cheer above hoarded gold – it would be a merrier world. But sad or merry, I must leave it now. Farewell.'_

In spite of, or, perhaps because of, the somber mood, he feels indignation well up at the title – he may be young in the eyes of dwarves and elves and men, but he is far from a child. The feeling is gone as quickly as it came, though - it is not the time for such thoughts. Lately, it never seems to be the right time to do anything.

_'Farewell, Thorin.'_

He wants to scream and shout, to beg and plead, because the one who is King is dead, and there is nothing he can do to repair the damage that he's done, nothing he can do to take back the wrongs he has committed. There is nothing he can do to bring Thorin Oakenshield back to the land of the living.

Later, when the sky has darkened and everyone else has retreated to their tents, he ventures to the Front Gate of the Lonely Mountain. It is here that he lets the tears fall, here that he allows the grief and the guilt to wash away the numbness that surrounded him. Outside the once-great Dwarven kingdom, high above the activity of the camps below, he offers up an apology to the late King Under the Mountain.

Because, no matter how he looks at it, Thorin Oakenshield is dead; and it is all his fault.

* * *

**AN: If you have any ideas/prompts you want to see written please leave them in a review. A quick note on this one-shot series; sorry if they all seem short, but this is where I'll be posting anything that is less than 100 words.**

**A bit of shameless self-advertising: I've started a forum called 'The Lonely Mountain' and I would love it if you checked it out / left your thoughts in one of the topics.**

**-TaCo**


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